Review of The Moody Blues' Days Of Future Passed

Released 1967

"Cold hearted orb that rules the night, Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white, But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion? Pinprick holes in a colourless sky,
Let inspired figures of light pass by, The mighty light of ten thousand suns, Challenges infinity and is soon gone. Night time, to some a brief interlude,
To others the fear of solitude. Brave Helios wake up your steeds,
Bring the warmth the countryside needs."

The Moody Blues have a very odd position in the pantheon of prog history. Despite seven very strong albums in the late sixties and early seventies, and the undoubted claim of Days Of Future Passed as the first true prog album, they are rarely lauded today in the way I feel their pedigree should warrant. While many of their contemporaries still gain countless column inches forty years on, it is rare to read a retrospective of their early career in the same way you might encounter Yes, King Crimson or many others who emerged around the same time. Perhaps this is because, for a while anyway, The Moodies crossed over and enjoyed success in the mainstream, all but abandoning their progressive roots altogether. However, they were not alone in that regard, and I for one will continue to champion their myriad virtues in this humble blog.

In previous reviews of albums by The Moody Blues, I have described how I was effectively made caretaker for a friend's record collection for an extended period, and that this weighty LP box contained a full set of the classic Moodies first seven albums. I should explain. for any pedants reading this, that I am discounting the very first Moodies album as an unspectacular (but nonetheless, very successful) unremarkable 'beat combo' offering in the same manner as Genesis fans (which incidentally includes me) discount From Genesis To Revelation, seeing Trespass as the first real Genesis album.

The cover was reminiscent of a film soundtrack, and, from my youthful perspective, bore no prog credentials whatsoever. The fact that it was their first album proper with their new line up, so soon after the pedestrian Go Now, didn't particularly excite me either. Of course, like the rest of the Western world I was familiar with Nights In White Satin, although at the time, only knowing it as a single, I probably saw it as fairly MOR; undoubtedly a good pop song but nothing special.

Thus it became one of many albums which I didn't fully comprehend or appreciate until it occupied one side of a C90 cassette, and I was playing it on a Sony Walkman on one of the interminably long coach trips I had to take between Redruth and Glasgow.

It was definitely one of those "this-is supposed-to-be-a-classic-although-I doubt-it" begrudging listens. With fourteen hours ahead of me, I had a lot of cassettes to divert me and I knew that I better get it over and done with.

Were I to review that first full run through giving my nineteen year old response, this would be short and grumpy review. It is only fair to superimpose my more mature, gently greying view, all these years on.

The album begins very softly with an almost imperceptible reverberating percussion which builds to a climax introducing a full orchestra. As a nineteen year old, I would have groaned and thought, 'yup; piss poor soundtrack nonsense'. Now I am old enough and wise enough to realise what incredible new ground The Moodies were making with Days Of Future Passed. Decca had seen sufficient potential in them to bestow free reigh of all the latest technologies, along with a full orchestra and a seemingly bottomless budget. This was 1967; pop/rock bands playing with orchestras on a concept album was new, completely untried. Pop bands did play along with orchestras for TV specials for the masses, but this was something different.

The delivery of the opening spoken verse (see top of this review) indicates just how different this was. With the benefit of hindsight, it is easy to reference future Moodies releases which would also use a spoken opening, as well as future borrowings of this device by other prog bands (both Tommy and Quadophrenia both use the overture device as witnessed here, for example), but at the time, you would have to ask; just who was their audience? This wouldn't have appealed to a pop audience, surely? Nor the classical audience either, as it was a bit too far out there for the 'straights'.

Dawn Is A Feeling has a curious blend of classic sixties pop sensibilities in the chorus, blended with a more sophisticated drama in the verses. Where, on a traditional prog album , you might expect to hear a mellotron or keyboard solo, to hear the mellotron accompanied with a full orchestra is a strange thing first time around, a huge sound, and one which must have caused much scratching of heads by the 'straights' and much excited stroking of chins by aspiring progsters.

The Morning again has much of the standard pop whimsy which would have been commonplace amongst specifically their pop contemporaries, but the chorus introduces swathes of mellotron and vocal harmonies. The orchestral accompaniment can jar occasionally and date the music very firmly as a sixties oddity.

Lunch Break is probably the greatest casualty of this on the album: the first half sounds like the soundtrack for a terrible Peter Sellers film from that period. However, the second half of the track introduces Jefferson Airplane type keyboard effects and frankly wonderful harmonies. At three minutes fifty, the band collectively take off on a remarkable guitar and bass frenzy; very Byrds-like. Suddenly it is not difficult to imagine this being played at the Roundhouse in London admist swirling light displays just after The Pink Floyd have finished their set without it sounding anything other than perfectly suited to its surroundings.

The prog credentials are heightened further with The Afternoon. The mellotron here is as effective as anything on In The Court Of The Crimson King. There is an effortlessness by which the band switches between prog passages, orchestral arrangements and a pop based chorus which is quite unique. I defy anyone currently lumping The Moodies into the average prog bracket to retain that view after listening to The Afternoon.

Without getting caught up in the actual comparative chronology of Days Of Future Passed and Sgt Pepper, or indeed any other 1967 album claiming to be the first to be labelled as prog, I strongly believe that the former has to be the stronger contender, based if nothing else on the large number of prog motifs which became the norm on later albums by most of the the classic prog bands in the seventies.

The Evening ( like the rest of the album) does a very credible job of creating an atmosphere relative to the title of the song and the concept of the album as a whole. Its probably true to say that the Eastern inflections used here are not as successful as those Mr Harrison used on Sgt Pepper. This is remedied, at least in part, by the space-rock chorusing in the middle section of the song and the sublime set up at the end of the track for what is arguably the highpoint of the album.

Although I had heard Nights In White Satin a hundred times before, hearing it for the first time in the context of the album is, dare I say it, akin to a religious experience. I cannot hear it now as the climax to the album without a tear in my eye. On one level it is a classic pop song whilst on another it is a brilliant fusion of all what was emerging as prog at the time: mellotrons, classical leanings, a flute solo, a timeless concept and an excellent vocal performance.

I urge you to to put any prejudices to one side, put the album on, select track one, put on some headphones, turn the volume up as high as you can bear, close your eyes, lie back and be amazed.

The spoken finale is suitably cinematic, emotionally intense and absolutely worthy of its classic groundbreaking status. Possibly the misunderstood album in prog.

Review of The Beatles 'The White Album'

Released 1968

"You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm.
You know i can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
For a little peace of mind".


Of all the albums I bought during my first year of University, no memory of the actual purchase is clearer than when I stumbled across The White Album.

There was a second hand record shop in the Dowanhill region of Glasgow which, as far as I can recall, I only visited twice. I have no idea why, as, on reflection, it had possibly the most eclectic selection of late sixties and early seventies era prog rock I've every seen in one place. I only remember buying two albums from there, the first Fat Mattress album ( whose unique fold out sleeve design was the most interesting aspect of the package) and The White Album.

I don't think I had ever seen a second hand copy before, and, come to think of it, I'm not sure I ever came across another one. In fact it was highly unusual to spy any second hand records by The Beatles; other than the 'red' and 'blue' compilations, and even then, that was also rare.

Therefore I have a very clear picture in my mind of the moment when my expert album flicking finger technique stopped at an original numbered copy of one of my most sought after prizes. I, like any serious music fan was very familiar with the infamy surrounding this release. From the influence of the Maharishi to the influence on Charles Manson and 'the Family', from the heated studio arguments (and walkout by Ringo) to the legendarily obtuse Revolution 9, I had long been in awe of it's mystique. One friend of mine in particular raved (and continues to rave) endlessly about it's greatness. Holding it in my hand, it had an almost tangible power.

I wasn't put off by the fact that a previous owner had seen fit to protect all edges of the sleeve with black insulation tape. This was the real deal. It had the posters, the lyrics, the lot. I can't remember what I paid for it, but, like the fool I was, I would have paid pretty much anything.

Although I already had Sgt Peppers... and Abbey Road, I still saw The Beatles as first and foremost a pop band. Both these albums had surprised me with their obvious prog leanings, but only so far. Still, seeing the green apple spinning on the turntable, I knew I was in the presence of a culturally important work.

Back In The USSR took me by surprise. It was one of those Beatles tracks which I'd forgotten I knew and enjoyed. An uptempo Beach Boys pastiche which rocked harder than I'd remembered, it made me smile at the undoubted knack Paul McCartney had for classic pop. I knew Dear Prudence, but had temporarily forgotten that this predated The Banshees remake. Although not a favourite track of mine, I loved the segues both in and out of the preceding and following tracks. I realised very quickly that The White Album is a masterpiece of sequencing

I know that I am not the first person to state this, but I think that it is worth repeating. Both the order in which the tracks are put together and the manner by which the transitions between them is managed is sublime. The variety of musical styles on offer make this especially important. If, for example, the slower ballads had been gathered together on one of the four sides, the effect would have been less effective than the actually finished product.

This makes tracks like Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da almost palatable. On it's own, it is easy to see it as irritating as Octopus's Garden on Abbey Road. However, sandwiched between Glass Onion and Wild Honey Pie, it indicates the unparalleled wealth of talent which these four musicians. The mucking around during last few seconds on the outro of Ob-La-Di also move the track out of the realm of mere whimsy, to something slightly different; pushing boundaries even on a simple pop track.

The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill , whilst hated by most Beatles fans, has more inventiveness in it's three minutes and fourteen seconds than the majority of their peers could muster in a whole album. Yes, it's got a guest appearance by that annoying Japanese woman, but listen again to just how much is going on. It's not the throw away track many would have you think it is.

Again the 'Ay-Up' segue into While My Guitar Gently Weeps is genius: serving to effectively connect songs which would otherwise be poles apart.

On my first listen, it was during Happiness Is A Warm Gun that I first had that shiver down the back of my neck when I realised how darn good this album was. I also shook my head in disbelief in amazement of how far these four mop tops had come in such a short period of time. This continued with I'm So Tired. By the time of The White Album, Lennon was clearly enjoying the emerging militant poet persona with which he was becoming adorned.

To this day I cannot understand what on earth Charles Manson heard in Piggies that inspired his actions. I love it's irreverence, simple bass line and harpsichord and I think again it's transition into Rocky Raccoon is superbly realised.

I'll admit that I was less enamoured by the last four tracks of the second side of vinyl. None of these are terrible songs; far from it, just not as inspired as the rest of the work.

The third side kicks off in wonderful style with Birthday, which sees McCartney really start to stretch out on his vocals. The best thing about this song for me is that one can almost hear a direct line leading back to their earlier days, shaking their heads together while hundreds of girls screamed in unison. Four or five years on though, this was more sophisticated, more knowing.

Yer Blues picks up where I'm So Tired leaves off: cutting humour, a strong blues influence, an excellent rhythm section which gets progressively more grungy. At two minutes and seven seconds in, the whole group steps up a gear and, despite popular myth, they appear to be having a good time. The guitar solo is typically underrated for a Beatles Track.

Mother Nature's Son is a partner piece to Blackbird in my mind. Both gorgeous. Many are quick to criticise McCartney for his pop sensibilities without listening to what else is going behind a seemingly innocuous lyric or simple song structure. Again, go back to Mother Nature's Son and listen to the many levels of instrumentation going on in the background.

The clever juxtapositions between tracks continues with the upbeat Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For me And My Monkey. Ringo's drumming is particularly strong. It surprises me that a band so intent on imploding can still sound as though they are a fully functioning unit.

To fully appreciate Helter Skelter, it is important to contextualise it's aggressive style and polemic approach. This was released before (just before) the MC5 and The Stooges launched their trademark radicalism on the American public. Sound effects were rarely heard and a screaming Paul McCartney was certainly not on the radar. All the above and the false ending with Ringo's 'I've got blisters on my fingers!!' were all so 'un-Beatle-like'. Of course, if you put all of this to one side, it would be easy to dismiss it as tame in light of many bands trading in a similar genre since, but this was The Beatles. This was 1968 and it was groundbreaking.

Long, Long, Long is one my favourite tracks on the album. The roots of so many other later bands can be traced back to this track. From More era Pink Floyd to Dark Star era Grateful Dead this is hugely influential. The atmospheric keyboards, manic drums and wailing is very, very prog. Lovely.

Revolution 1 threw me for a minute or two. I'd forgotten that there was a slow and fast version. Either way, this was classic pop which only Lennon could produce.

Honey Pie, Savoy Truffle and Cry Baby Cry lull the listener into a false sense of security. Three simple and variously daft and beautiful tracks which of themselves are pleasant and effective but brilliantly employed to set the stage for the centrepiece of the album, Revolution 9.

Revolution 9 on first hearing is just confusing and odd. With each subsequent listen, I become more convinced that this is one of the greatest pieces by the Beatles, or, to be fair, by John Lennon. There is beauty, menace, drama, invention present in layer upon layer of wonderfully paced staging for which he was woefully misunderstood at the time. The ripples emerging from the pebble which Lennon dropped in the pool of progressive rock are still being felt today.

There is a remarkable majesty by which the incoherence of Revolution 9 fades into the orchestrations of the cinematic Good Night. Two songs were probably never greater at odds. Side by side they produce a closing to the album which is tear-jerkingly moving.

This is my favourite album by The Beatles and a top five album any day of the week. I don't see this changing.

Review of The Beatles' Abbey Road

Released 1969

"He roller coaster, He got early warning,
He got Muddy Water, He one Mojo filter,
He say one and one and one is three.
Got to be good looking, 'Cause he so hard to see"

Having groaned and grimaced my way through the review of 90125, I can say with genuine delight that I have been looking forward to recounting my initial experience of Abbey Road ever since it saw it peering over the horizon.

Abbey Road was one of the albums in a big black LP case which was entrusted to me by a Helicopter Pilot from RNAS Culdrose whilst he was on manoeuvres. ( I realise how dubious that sounds, although I can proudly and honestly state in a deep manly voice that he only opened my eyes through the delights of his record collection). Moving on.

There is only a small handfulof albums where the first time I placed the stylus on the vinyl, pressed play on the cassette player or the CD player, where I can now, many years later fully recreate the entire sense of that moment, such was the immediacy and intensity of the experience. That day in the summer of 1985, when I first played Abbey Road is one of those precious moments.

I've possibly got this a bit wrong, but I think I'm correct in saying the original pressings of Abbey Road were the only ones to list Her Majesty on the sleeve and that it was omitted in later years. Either way, I'm fairly certain that the copy I was entrusted with was an original.

Obviously the sleeve is iconic, perhaps more so even than Sgt. Pepper. A simple concept but engendered with so much significance simply because it was the last true recording of the world's most influential pop group. Having visited the spot where the famous photograph was taken, it is astonishing how culturally significant it still feels all these years on.

I came to Abbey Road a tad weary from over exposure to Sgt. Pepper and unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to endure Octopus's Garden; which I still consider the second most irritating track recorded by The Beatles, after Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da. Mind you, as it was The Beatles it was still invested with a certain charm. Before hearing the album in it's entirety I would never have considered it a prog rock album.

As I say, the moment the rolling drum and bass emerge from the hiss of the stylus moving into the first track will stay with me forever. It was instantly and emphatically hypnotising, entirely captivating and jaw-droppingly 'right'. It oozed quality from the first note. I was stunned. Although I knew The Beatles were capable of more than just proficient pop, I had no idea they had produced anything so far removed from pop as this. This was a rock record.

Or was it. I'd forgotten about Something; George Harrision's finest moment, which was, for many the definitive pop song. Whilst Something itself was a million miles from prog, the contrast in styles in the first two songs was a very prog like technique.

Or so I thought. It would be a real stretch to categorise Maxwell's Silver Hammer as prog like. Typical for McCartney it was twee, largely daft and considered odious by his estranged writing partner. Oh! Darling again was very McCartney, although with an excellent lead and harmony vocals, it (just) rises above ordinariness.

Four songs in, and awaiting the shudderingly terrible Octopus's Garden, I was extremely sceptical about the formidable reputation of the album. With the exception of Come Together, it was never too far away from mainstream pop: proficient, but pop nontheless.

I almost certainly skipped past most of, or all of Octopus's Garden and was then pleasantly surprised by the massive leap forward in quality with I Want You (She's so heavy). From the sublime lead guitar, the many changes in tempo, the simple but brilliant bass guitar theme, the sterling drum working to the wonderful hammond, I was utterly impressed and knew in an instant that this was a classic track. It, for me, lays to rest the nonsensical argument that Ringo couldn't drum. The sudden, unexpected ending lends it a grand menace. I like to think that this was a the result of a particularly fruitful and enjoyable jam session, where the four of them actually got on.

That it moves with a very short break into the hugely different Here Comes The Sun can only make you smile and appreciate the ultimate genius of The Beatles: capable of such a wide variety of styles, often in the same album.

I'm glad that I was unprepared for the suite on the second side. If I had known it was coming it may have lessened the impact. I would never have associated The Beatles with a twenty minute suite of music. I find it very hard to listen to the second side of Abbey Road without a tear or two in my eyes. This is for several reasons. First and foremost it is one of the most beautifully accomplished suites of music I am aware of: it all appears so effortless. Secondly this was the swansong for the band: although relations between them were all but over, the manner in which their various contributions mould together to produce an incredible whole, reveals just how desperately sad it was that the world would never again hear the result of the their collaboration.

That they could barely look at each other in the studio, but could bring together the separately conceived basic tracks for Mean Mr Mustard, Polythene Pam, She Came in Through The Bathroom Window, and run them together so expertly makes me wonder what they could have been capable of if they enjoyed being in each other's company more.

I defy anyone not to well up during Golden Slumbers; invested with added significance due to its role as the epitaph to The Beatles career. McCartney's has never delivered a better vocal.

The final guitar solo, shared between Harrison, Lennon and McCartney is achingly poignant. If they could find the space for each other in this way, why did it have it to end?

An odd album; from the sublime to the ridiculous, from godawful pop to raucous psychedelic prog worthy wig-outs, it has moments of unsurpassed brilliance as well as moments that make me cringe. The end result, with the iconic sleeve, side long suite and its inherent historical significance cannot fail to leave all but the most cynical of prog rock fans reverent and respectful of its value.

For me, it's The Beatles greatest hour. Had they stuck together, I would love to know what the next album would have produced; I think it could have been a prog epic.

Review of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

Released 1967

"When you've seen beyond yourself, then you may find, peace of mind is waiting there.
And the time will come when you will see we're all one, and life flows on within you and without you".


I have a very strange relationship with this album. I had had a summer job working behind the bar, where for the course of the entire summer season, only three cassettes were played in constant rotation: Sade's first album, Paul McCartney's second album and Sgt. Pepper. Although all three albums have much going for them, having heard each of them an estimated 150 times in quick succession that summer, each time I hear a snatch from any of them, I have a Proustian moment where instantly the smell of an ashtray mixed with Fairy Liquid makes me want to gag: not the reaction the Fab Four intended when they composed what is frequently seen as the most influential album of the twentieth century.

On the plus side, a couple of years later, I recall a major documentary about The Beatles being screened in the JCR of our University Halls. It was twenty years since the making of their seminal album and many of rock and pop's main alumni were interviewed, along with the surviving Beatles themselves, talking about the whole summer of love experience. Incidentally, I pretty sure that this was the first time the fabled quote - " If you can remember the sixties, you weren't really there" was aired by a member of Jefferson Airplane. Anyhow, an awful lot of students gathered to watch that documentary and were enraptured by the scope of their achievement and the mystic of the time. It was clear from the diverse range of students watching the programme that The Beatles were still revered two decades on.

I don't think there is any debate at all that Sgt. Pepper qualifies as a prog album. From the iconic sleeve to the costumes of the band, from the clever segues to the massive range of musical styles, from the (I think) the very first gate fold sleeve to the introduction of instruments from the Far East, the invention and ambition is astonishing.

This may have not been the first concept album but, at the time at least, it was certainly the most slickly executed. The movement from song to song is so professional that it seems to work on a theatrical staged level. Take the segue from the opening title track to With A Little Help From My Friends; both songs work well alone, but the effort and effectiveness of how the two meet is pure prog rock. It's slickness doesn't however distract from the indescribable awfulness that is Ringo Starr's vocal on this song.

There are times though when I listen to the album where I can only view it as simple collection of catchy pop songs with little depth. This is because there are very few songs by The Beatles that are not ingrained on the psyche like no other group before or since. Take Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds; it works both as an innovative and brilliant pop song when viewed entirely separately to the album, but it does also flow impeccably with the natural character of the rest of the songs collectively. Songs such as Getting Better and Fixing A Hole are undeniably pop songs but pop songs which were deliberately framed to exist within a rock album.

Of course because they were The Beatles, they could get away with the braveness of George Harrison's Within You Without You. As bizarre as it must have been at the time of release, the boldness of this gesture directly lead to budding prog musicians realising that it was okay to experiment.

Enough words have already been written about the impact of A Day Of A Life on popular culture. The point which I always dwell on when listening to this track is to marvel at the thought process and creative collaboration which could even conceive of the song structure in the first place. The ingestion of drugs no doubt had a lot to do with it, but I feel that this is a lazy explanation. To be able to harness a vision and then execute it using technology and techniques never yet employed could have resulted in a catastrophic failure. Just being The Beatles wasn't enough to make it a success. A willingness to push boundaries in this way is pure prog.

Ultimately Sgt. Pepper is probably only my third favourite album by The Beatles. That said, I am warming to it more and more with each passing year.

Review of The Doors' The Doors

Released 1967

"There's danger on the edge of town.
Ride the King's highway, baby.
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby."

Confronted with several thousand options and equipped with hard earned cash from my summer job, entering HMV on Oxford Street in London set my head spinning. I was probably driven in the direction of The Doors due to their credibility amongst my wider circle of friends at college. Their logo was frequently doodled in the margins of many pieces of psychology course work.

Of course I was familiar with Light My Fire and Riders On The Storm, but I viewed them, by all accounts, as a very primarily popular pop orientated American band with a charismatic, now long dead, lead singer. I was though unconsciously assimilating a broader understanding of The Doors place in late sixties culture, simply by being around like minded college students. So by the time I purchased their eponymous first album, I was quietly respectful of it's status and more than intrigued as to what the fuss was all about.

I bought the album during a trip to London, travelling up from High Wycombe, where my girlfriend and I were staying in a caravan belonging to friends of hers. I spent an unhealthy amount of time that week looking at the front cover with no means to play it's contents. The disembodied head idea wasn't new; at least two albums by The Beatles had a very similar design. The menacing, serious, and no doubt stoned gazes of the four members of The Doors was a world away from the universal commercialism of The Beatles posturings. Jim Morrison's pose was more 'artistic' I suppose: demonstrating both defiance and sensuality, which (not that I've tried it) is no mean feat. I thought that it was a simple cover concept, which owed as much to the photographer's skill as it did to the magnetism of Mr Mojo.

Safely back home a week or so later, I was off to a bad start, as I hated my other purchase; Led Zeppelin's In Through The Out Door. Thinking about it now, being in a negative frame of mind when listening to your first album by The Doors was no bad thing. Despite the explosive pace of the opening track - Break On Through - it was evident from the off that the listener was being beckoned into a dark and mysterious, and subsequently not very comfortable netherworld. It wasn't difficult to understand how teenagers plummeted head long into the counter culture when hearing this in 1967. The 'other side' represented all of the unsavoury, and therefore appealing aspects of 'dropping out': drugs and free love, free thinking spirits and revolutionary stances were all wrapped up in a three minute invitation to dare to confront the norm.

Jim Morrison's personality oozed from the speakers. His strident yelping in harmony with Robby Krieger's fuzzy lead guitar must have terrified teenager's parents in the sixties who were merrily enjoying Peter, Paul and Mary. If the Rolling Stones had parents putting their daughters on the pill, then Jim Morrison must have caused many a parent to dispose of their medicine cabinets and flush away long overdue prescription drugs.

I adored Ray Manzerak's keyboard sound immediately. Soul Kitchen for example, is lent a sense of serenity and grandeur as his contribution sets the scene for the doomed poet. This was another album which was difficult not to love from the outset. Even the poppier moments, of which I had initially though there would be more, on songs like Twentieth Century Fox (very clever title and lyric) rise above the standard sixties fodder due to the unique interplay between the band. Even Alabama Song, Brechtian in origin, which comes at you from left field, doesn't appear incongruous; it's all about the passion of the delivery.

The album version of Light My Fire was a revelation. Previously I had seen it as a classic pop song, immediately identifiable and synonymous with the era, but the unexpected extended keyboard and guitar sections triggered the thought that maybe this could be reasonably thought of as a prog album. I was unsure how many of the necessary boxes it ticked though? Excellent levels of musicianship? check; eccentric invention? check; extended instrumental passages? check; eclectic influences? check. However, there was no doubting that, in the main, the album consisted a lot of three minute distinctly pop-like tracks, with - dare I say it - a trace of filler here and there, especially on the second side. But then, I was unprepared for the denouement.

Having seen Apocalypse Now already, and knowing The End, at least in part from it's use twice in the film, I wasn't expecting to be that impressed. For what ever reason, it was as this final track started that I put on my headphones.

I'm sure that there are a multitude of teenage boys who can identify with the shock, delight, horror and absolute joy at being exposed to The End for the first time. I use 'exposed' deliberately, as this track, above all else on the album (and probably their entire output), strikes at the core of The Doors success: the feeling that the listener is being welcomed into a sordid inner circle, driven by primal desires, the need to push boundaries and test authority and which parents and 'straights' could never possibly understand. As Jim Morrison rants his oedipal obscenity and the instrumentation mirrors the breakdown of order, the listener feels as though a rite of passage has been undertaken, where seeking meaningful artistic expression becomes a vital part of your life. As the song slowed, and Morrison panted in simulated post-coital slumber, I was eternally grateful that I was wearing my headphones.

Many prog purists might still baulk at the thought that The Doors is a prog album. In terms of invention and the desire to push boundaries, I would say that it qualifies in spades.